


There's no line for you and me

by ninemoons42



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Break Up, Dancing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pickup Lines, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-12
Updated: 2011-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42





	There's no line for you and me

  
title: There's no line for you and me  
author: [](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**ninemoons42**](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/)  
word count: 2128  
fandom: X-Men: First Class [movieverse]  
pairing: Charles Xavier/OMC, Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr  
rating: PG-13  
notes: college AU, modern setting, no powers. Erik inadvertently witnesses a breakup, and then he dances with one of the men in the aforementioned breakup. Inspired by the Orson single "No Tomorrow". For [](http://madsmurf.livejournal.com/profile)[**madsmurf**](http://madsmurf.livejournal.com/).

  
The thing about Erik is that he's actually secretly very fond of going out dancing.

The thing with _that_ is that his friends don't.

It's a Monday night soon after midterms and the football team is holding some kind of rave. He'd heard about it from one of the other guys on his floor – Sean, everyone's source for the latest music, the geekiest t-shirts, and the best pot – and right then and there he'd made up his mind to go.

He plows through his homework quickly, throws on his leather jacket and a nice pair of jeans. Flask of rum and wallet in his back pockets and a pale gray t-shirt bearing the characters for _kumogakure_ over the heart. He figures people will look at the Chinese characters and not be able to understand them, so it's easy to wear his love for stuff like the _Genji monogatari_ out in public.

He can feel the bass beat vibrating through the sidewalk as he gets closer to the party – it looks like they've taken over one of the free houses for the evening, and vaguely Erik wonders about the possibility that he might be seeing his friends after all. Emma and Shaw live in the Greek-letter neighborhood, after all, and this particular free house sits just around the corner from Emma's sorority house.

“Hey, Erik!”

He pushes the brim of his hat up and – “Sean,” he says, and he stops halfway down the block, and the redhead and his friends catch up to him. “Thank you for the invitation, by the way.”

“No problem,” and Sean grins and introduces the group around him. Alex waves half-heartedly, his dirty-blonde hair hidden in his blue hoodie. The girl's name is Raven and she has a wide, disarming smile, and she's wearing a bow tie.

There's a short line to get into the house and Erik nods his head appreciatively to the music, but when he's through the door and turns around the other three are gone.

Well, he's done worse, and he often seems to come and go to these things by himself. No big.

Erik takes a beer from the huge metal tubs set up in the kitchen, full of ice and all kinds of bottles, and he steps out for a smoke and as soon as he's lit up there's a noise behind him.

“Do you always have to be such a – oh, what am I saying, of course you are.”

“No offense, but...other people are normally _easier_ to get along with than you. I'm sorry, it's just too much work to be with you.”

“What?”

“We're done, Charles. I'm sorry.”

Erik really shouldn't be here – the voices sound like they're fraying around the edges, and this is bringing back a lot of dark memories.

So he waits for the conversation to finish before risking a glance over his shoulder and – well.

The man who's still standing in the kitchen has covered his face with his hands. His shoulders are hitching in a very suspicious and also very tell-tale manner.

Erik clears his throat very loudly as he steps back in.

The man in the kitchen looks up at him with wide blue eyes. After a moment, he sighs, and says, very softly, “You heard everything?”

“I heard enough – are you Charles?” Erik says, and he digs his flask out of his back pocket. Now that he's closer he can appreciate the button-down shirt, artfully unravelling at the cuffs, and the beat-up pair of jeans. “You can have a beer if you want, they don't seem to be in short supply around here – unless you'd rather have something stronger.”

The other man tips his head to the side – and reaches out for Erik's hand. “Yes, I'm him. And I'd prefer something stronger. Definitely.” He uncaps the flask, no wasted motions, and he tips it back and Erik doesn't actually know why he's watching so intently as the other man swallows. “Thank you. That's very kind of you.”

Erik jumps, suddenly back in his own skin, which is prickling at the other man's steady regard. “I – well, you looked like you needed it.”

“You must be a mind reader,” the other man says, and once he's returned the flask he's still holding his hand out. “Excuse me for earlier. Charles Xavier.”

“Erik Lehnsherr,” Erik says, and this is a bad idea, he's made it a rule, he doesn't pick people up at these parties and he definitely doesn't pick up people who've just been in a trainwreck of a breakup, if Charles's red eyes are anything to go by.

Erik shakes his hand anyway.

Before anything else can happen there's a sudden crash outside, and Erik whirls around and he's out the doors, and there's a heap of giggling people sprawled on the grass. He recognizes a familiar mop of red hair, a flash of bow tie, and he rolls his eyes so hard he thinks he might break something. “If there's anyone in this group who needs medical attention, Sean most definitely not included, please come up here. I'm a med student and I promise I know what I'm doing – most of the time. The rest of you can fuck off.”

“That's Erik for ya', he always says the best things,” Sean laughs, and he picks himself up from the pile with gangly grace. “Come on, Raven, let's go look for your boyfriend.”

“Raven?”

Erik raises his eyebrow when Charles steps past him.

“Charles!” Raven flashes a V-sign. “I didn't think you'd be able to make it,” she says, and she opens her arms and Charles walks right into them, presses a kiss to her cheek.

Erik looks away, tries to ignore the sharp stab of – _not jealousy I just met him not anything_ – in his gut.

“Yes, well, neither did I, but how was I to know I was going to be brought here for the express purpose of being broken up with?”

Outraged cries from Sean and the others, and an indignant sigh from Raven. “I keep telling you and telling you, brother dear,” she says.

Erik stops listening after that. The sheer relief slamming into him.

“It takes me a while to listen to you,” Charles is saying when Erik finally manages to tune back into the conversation. “Bit of a personal failing, I know.”

“Isn't it just. Do you want me to sit with you for a while?” Raven asks.

When Charles dredges up a smile and nods in Erik's direction, Erik nearly feels his heart stop.

“No, no,” Charles says, “don't let me interfere with your evening. You should go and have a good time, and you should find Henry – I'm sure he's here somewhere, he's on the team and all that. As for me, well, I've...I seem to have made a new friend.”

“Who, Erik?” And Sean rejoins the conversation.

Erik raises an eyebrow at him.

Sean laughs and flaps his hands. “Expression on his face, folks, that tells you everything you need to know.” And: “Come on, guys, I bet I can talk the DJ into playing the CD I brought, let's dance!”

“That was my sister,” Charles says, a little apologetically, once Sean and Raven and the others have raised a whoop and run off. They're back in the kitchen, sitting at the island bar, amid empty bags of potato chips and a half-consumed jar of dip. “She's a little overprotective of me.”

Erik shrugs in understanding. “She's just looking out for you.”

“And I'm very thankful to have her, truly. I wish I'd taken her advice and not gone out with that man at all. She'll be saying _I told you so_ for the next year.” Pause, Charles sniffs and wipes his eyes again, and then: “I imagine you didn't come here to talk, though. Dance party, isn't it? Did you come here with your friends?”

Erik chuckles and feels his ears heat a little. “Actually I'm here by myself. My friends aren't much for dancing.”

“Pity,” Charles says. A breath, and then: “I do like your shirt.”

Erik kills his beer and chuckles sardonically. “Do you even know what it means?”

“I think they'd chuck me out if I didn't,” Charles laughs. “Asian Studies. _He has vanished into the clouds._ I should have said something but I was a little busy earlier – forgive me?”

Erik shrugs, surprised and impressed. “I'll let you off the hook, just this once.”

“Well I _thank_ you for your kind regard,” Charles says, dryly, though at the end he's laughing.

Erik watches him finish off his beer – and then suddenly Charles is looking at him, knowingly.

There is definitely, definitely a gleam in Charles's eyes and the warning bells are going off in Erik's head again – _rebound rebound you're being used as a rebound that is always always a bad idea do not do anything stupid_ – and when Erik looks down, he registers that there is a hand around his wrist and that he is being pulled back toward the party, toward the insistent pulse of a techno track he's never heard before.

The music flows around him flows into him and the world dissolves in an intoxicating liquid rush. The dance floor is a whirl of warmth and bodies and Erik is already answering, Erik is already moving. He doesn't remember making any kind of decision – he simply _is_ , and he's _dancing_. His hands his feet his legs in motion, compelled by the command of the driving music. His eyes falling shut, but he can still see the bodies in the room, the lightsticks and the ecstatic faces. Everything crashing together like a drug. The music rushes through his veins. He doesn't know what he's doing, and he's grateful for the buzz of the music and of the movement.

The music slows down to a piano and a handful of chords.

He opens his eyes, lost in a haze.

And Charles is frozen in place. Waiting for _something_. Hands up and linked over his head. Eyes closed. The entire line of his body has stopped with the music, a graceful curve of tension. His shirt is riding up a little, and Erik focuses, briefly, on the strip of bared skin at his waist. The cloud of dark hair around his face; even in the dim light, Erik can see the beads of sweat on his forehead, suspended animation, see the way Charles is biting his lower lip.

But the moment is broken when the bass line crashes back in and Charles _leaps_ back into motion, hands unlacing and closing into fists, tracing and chasing the relentless beat as it pounds through the air. He spins and he shimmies and he shakes his head, sweat flying.

He's _gorgeous_ , he moves like he's completely lost in the music, like there's nothing left of him that hasn't already fallen to the thrall of the beat and the pulsing lights.

So Erik stops thinking and puts a hand on Charles's shoulder.

Those eyes open, a sweep of a glance, and they don't need any words to communicate.

Erik smiles as Charles turns around – the two of them still stepping in time to the wild beat, perfectly in sync, the two of them moving together – and Erik puts his arms around Charles's waist, angles his head so Charles can raise his arms again, holding Erik in place as Erik's holding Charles in place.

Erik laughs, and he deliberately slides his leg between Charles's. Puts a hand on Charles's hip and aligns their bodies together, pieces of a puzzle, perfect fit, and he feels Charles leaning back into him, burn of his body all along Erik's, and the music is a spear through him, through them.

The music changes to a compelling beat, dirty and sexy, and everyone around them whoops and cheers but Erik only bends down, brushes his lips against the curve of Charles's ear. Whispers: “Can you keep up with me? Are you ready for this?”

Charles's words are like searing brands falling onto Erik's cheek. “Why don't you try me and let's find out.” Pause, Erik reaches up and turns Charles's head so Charles can see Erik smiling, and then Charles leans forward so his mouth is almost on Erik's.

Erik can feel the words perfectly as Charles's lips move against his. _Dance with me._  



End file.
